A SORROWFUL ROMANCE
Doris and Kitty fully intended to awaken early, but when they did open
their eyes the sun was streaming brightly in at the windows and some one
was pounding on their door.
“Come in,” Doris murmured sleepily.
Cora Sully thrust her head in at the door and glared at the girls.
“Do you think you can get your breakfast in bed?” she demanded harshly.
“What time is it?” Doris asked, sitting up and nudging Kitty, as a signal
for her to keep Wags hidden under the covers.
Wags, however, had ideas of his own and at this unfortunate moment he
gave a smothered yelp and pawed his way out from under the bed clothes.
He leaped to the floor and darted playfully toward the housekeeper.
“How did that dog get in here?” Cora asked sharply. “_You_ brought him up
here last night,” she accused Doris. “You little sneak!”
“I am not a sneak,” Doris retorted. She had been confused and ashamed at
the untimely discovery of her pet, but now that the housekeeper had made
such an uncalled for remark, she was inclined to defend herself. “We
heard him barking and were afraid he would awaken every one in the
house.”
The explanation did not mollify the woman but rather seemed to fan the
flame of her wrath.
“Yes, you are!” she snapped. “You just wanted an excuse to prowl about
the house!”
“I did not!” Doris refuted. “It didn’t seem right to leave Wags out there
all by himself.”
“You had no right to bring him into the house! I’ll get him out of here!”
Vengefully, Cora bore down upon the dog.
Wags, sensing that she was an enemy to be avoided, whisked past her and
leaped upon the bed. Cora began to tear viciously at the blankets in an
effort to capture him.
By this time Kitty’s arms had closed protectingly upon the little dog,
and Doris had jumped out of bed.
“We’ll take him downstairs just as soon as we get dressed,” she declared.
“Wags hasn’t done any harm. Please don’t get so excited about it!”
“I’ll show you who’s excited!” Cora muttered.
She had completely lost control of her temper and as Kitty rolled out on
the opposite side of the bed, she made another dive for Wags. By this
time Doris had lost all patience.
“Don’t you dare touch my dog!” she said quietly. “If you do, I’ll call
the Misses Gates!”
The mention of the old ladies produced a surprising effect upon Cora. For
the moment she seemed to forget about the dog and her resentment was
turned upon Doris and Kitty.
“So you’re trying to get me in trouble, eh?” she demanded harshly.
“No, of course not,” Doris tried to explain. “We’ll not say anything to
the Misses Gates, if you’ll go away and leave us alone. We didn’t mean to
do any harm and we’re sorry we brought Wags up here, since it has caused
you so much worry.”
Cora cast baleful glances upon the girls.
“Had to come here interfering—” they heard her mutter wrathfully to
herself.
“What did you say?” Doris asked.
“Nothing!”
“But I heard you say something about us coming here to interfere.”
“Well, didn’t you?”
“With what could we interfere?”
Cora shifted her weight uneasily and looked confused. She felt that she
had said too much.
“You seem to be afraid of something,” Doris observed shrewdly.
“Afraid!” the housekeeper snapped. “It’s you who ought to be afraid. Let
me tell you a thing or two. If you don’t want to get into trouble, you’d
better be starting back home!”
With that she flounced out of the room, leaving Kitty and Doris to stare
blankly after her.
“Well did you ever?” Kitty exclaimed. “What did she mean by that?”
“I think she was threatening us,” Doris said in a low tone, listening to
make certain that the housekeeper had gone on down the hall. “She was
excited and didn’t know how much she was giving away.”
“She undoubtedly thinks we’re interfering with something.”
“Their plans, of course. Undoubtedly, Cora is in on the scheme. We’ll
have to be careful not to let her suspect that we know anything.”
“Perhaps we had better go home,” Kitty suggested doubtfully. “I don’t
like the way things are happening.”
“Oh, Kit, we don’t want to go home now,” Doris protested. “If we do, that
horrid man will get all of the Misses Gates’s money. We must help them if
we can.”
“I suppose so,” Kitty sighed. “All right, I’m game if you are. We’ll see
it through to a finish. Thank goodness we have Wags with us, only I wish
he were a bulldog so he could take a chunk out of any one that tries to
annoy us.”
“Wags isn’t very popular now,” Doris laughed, “and he’s the sweetest
little dog in the world. I don’t see how folks can help but like him.
Hurry up, and get that other shoe on, Kit, or we never shall get
downstairs.”
Hastily the girls finished dressing, and carried Wags down to the porch
where they once more tied him.
“Poor thing must be about starved,” Doris said sympathetically. “After
breakfast we’ll see if we can’t get a bone for him.”
Returning to the living room they found Azalea and Iris waiting for them.
Contritely, the girls apologized for oversleeping.
“It isn’t very late,” Iris said kindly. “Only nine o’clock and we seldom
have breakfast before eight-thirty.”
“We were tired last night,” Kitty declared, “and we spent a lot of time
talking. We’ll see that it doesn’t happen again.”
“It really doesn’t matter,” Azalea assured her with a smile. “We were
young once and remember how hard it was to get up early in the morning.”
Breakfast was waiting and the four went at once to the dining room. As
Cora served, she cast sullen glances at the two girls, and this was not
lost upon them. Breakfast finished, Doris went to the kitchen to ask for
something to feed Wags. As she had anticipated, the request met with a
storm of anger, but the timely appearance of Iris caused Cora’s manner to
abruptly change. She gave Doris a pan of scraps with a show of good
grace.
“After you have fed your dog, you girls might like to see the garden,”
Iris suggested.
“Indeed we would.”
Doris left the pan of food at the side porch and then, with Kitty and the
Misses Gates, began a tour of the yard. She glanced curiously toward the
locked gates at the front of the house and wondered if either of the
ladies would offer an explanation.
Iris had brought her garden shears with her, and as they wandered about,
she cut each of the girls a gorgeous bouquet of roses. Presently they
came to a stone bench and a tiny lily pool and here they paused.
“How well I remember,” Azalea murmured, half to herself, as she sank down
upon the bench to rest, “it was just at this time of year that Iris and I
first met John Trent. The roses were in bloom then, too.”
Kitty and Doris exchanged quick glances, wondering if Azalea was about to
branch into the story they had been waiting to hear. She remained silent
for several minutes, and when she spoke again it was in a more
matter-of-fact tone.
“I suppose you wonder why we invited you here, Doris. As I told you
before, it is a long story, but if you would like to hear it—”
“Indeed I would!” Doris assured her eagerly.
“Your uncle, John Trent, was a very fine young man,” Azalea began. “He
was handsome and dashing—everything that a girl could wish for.
Frequently he called at our home and Iris and I became very fond of him.
Unfortunately, we never knew which one he liked better as he seemed
devoted to both of us.”
“It made us very unhappy,” Iris took up the story. “You see, until John
Trent came into our lives we had never had a disagreement. We dressed
alike and we enjoyed the same things—we were rather proud of being twins.
After we met John, things were entirely different. We no longer wished to
resemble each other. Vying for his favor, we even refused to dress
alike.”
Though no mention was made of any bitter feeling, Doris, reading deeply,
guessed that the two ladies had carried their rivalry to such an extent
that they had come to actually hate each other. Undoubtedly, the affair
had been the talk of the town.
“Finally Father stepped in and took a hand,” Iris went on. “He told John
that he must marry one of us before the end of the month or he would
forbid him to ever step inside the gate again. Oh, it was dreadful!”
Here Iris’s voice broke and she could not continue. After a few minutes
Azalea tried to take up the story.
“The days passed and still John could not choose. Each hour was a
nightmare to Iris and to me. We knew the townsfolk were aware of
everything and were laughing behind our backs. We became nervous and
fairly sick with it all. Father could not bear to see us suffer, and one
afternoon, meeting John coming up the path to the house, he stopped him.
“I don’t know what passed between them. Iris and I saw only what
happened. Father spoke a few angry words to him and then they began to
fight. John walked out of the gate, never to return.”
“How unfortunate!” Doris murmured.
“Yes,” Azalea said quietly, “but that was not the real tragedy. After
their quarrel, Father staggered up the walk toward the house. We ran out,
but before we could reach him, he fainted. He had always been afflicted
with heart trouble, and the excitement was too much. In spite of
everything the doctors did for him, he passed away in three days.”
“How very sad!” Kitty said sympathetically.
“My poor Uncle must have felt dreadfully wicked when he learned of your
father’s death,” Doris commented.
Iris nodded soberly.
“I imagine he did, for no one ever heard of him again.”
As she spoke, Iris wiped the tears from her eyes and Azalea turned her
head to hide her face. Doris felt a lump arising in her own throat as she
considered the sorrowful end to the romance. She gazed thoughtfully
toward the locked gates and a hush fell over the group.